Newton's Third
by SandraDeee
Summary: Trapped in the storage room of Bailey’s Tavern, Jake and Heather confront their feelings for one another.


Timeline: bombs + 36 months  
Spoilers: seasons 1 and 2  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Jericho. I am just borrowing them and will return them completely unscathed and quite satisfied, to boot.

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Newton's Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

* * *

"No, no, no! Don't let the door … _Crap_!"

With a resounding crash, the door slammed shut behind Jake Green, causing Heather Lisinski to involuntarily jump at the sound.

Jake looked at Heather, exasperation marking his features. "Don't tell me…"

"Okay, I won't tell you what you already know," she replied as he fiddled with the door knob and then pushed against the door itself.

They were stuck.

Heather could imagine far worse places to be. For that matter, she'd been in far worse places than Mary Bailey's storage room. Nevertheless, the room suddenly seemed much smaller. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from this force of nature that was Jake Green. All she wanted was some ketchup. Some dang ketchup! And now she was getting much more than she had bargained for. It had been—what?—nearly six months since she'd last seen him, and truth be told, she still felt off kilter from their last encounter.

Well, she decided, she'd better get used to seeing Jake. He was back, and there would be nothing to call him away anymore. Three years had passed since the Day of Change. That day marked both a beginning and an end. They'd seen the best and worst of humanity, from the lowliest soldier who would give his life to defend people he didn't even know to the corruption of the corporation behind the attacks themselves that wrought that change. For the first six months, they'd struggled to survive on their own, facing the enemy of shortages and fear. After that, they'd faced Phil Constantino and the New Bern militia. They were 'rescued' by the A.S. military, who soon occupied their town, imposing the will of the Cheyenne government upon them. From that point on, Jericho became a hotbed of insurgent activity, eventually convincing its occupiers of the corruption of the Allied States. Jake Green and Robert Hawkins made their daring flight to Texas with the remaining nuclear warhead, securing the support of Texas for the United States government and starting the Second Civil War.

But that was over. Finally and truly over. The flag that flew outside of Jericho's town hall and outside of town halls across states west of the Mississippi River was no longer the distorted flag of the Allied States of America. It was Old Glory, its stripes representing the original thirteen colonies; its stars representing the fifty states of the union. _E pluribus unum_. They had finally overcome but not forgotten.

Heather's heart quickened as she looked at Jake. Many in their nation owed him a debt of gratitude, revered him as a national hero, and told tales of his bravery. But all Heather could see was him, the man who made her wish for a future she'd never known she wanted. He was the man who'd made her laugh and made her cry, the man with whom she'd shared experiences that she'd never shared with anyone else.

And he was the man who managed to get them locked into the storage room.

Jake's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, illuminated by a single compact fluorescent light bulb in the center of the ceiling, the only concession to modernity in what felt like a homage to antiquity. Crates of assorted wines and liquors were piled along one wall, categorized by type and number. A small couch, one Jake recognized from having once been situated near the pool table, was positioned along the opposite wall. Its upholstery was worn and stained, Jake guessed from too many over-zealous pool sharks whose aim with the pool cue was better than their aim with a bottle of beer. But it remained on the premises, for no one threw anything out anymore when there were still so few replacements. On the floor next to the couch was the old Bailey's sign that used to hang outside the tavern when Mary's father operated the business. The paint was peeling, but if Jake knew Mary—and he did quite well—she'd been unable to make herself dispose of it completely. Having it in the storage room was but a small compromise. A petite desk, which looked nearly as old as the room itself, adorned the wall opposite the door.

Jake had been in this room once before helping his brother to carry some supplies inside, but he'd not paid much attention to it. As he looked around now, he estimated it was a mere 15x15 foot space, mostly filled to the brim. A small window near the ceiling of the basement room caught his attention. Gauging from its size, it was too small for him to fit through, but maybe Heather could…

_Heather._ Even the sound of her name in his mind evoked feelings in him. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined their reunion.

Without even looking at her, Jake could feel her clear blue eyes on him. He'd come to find her, but now that he had, he was at a loss for words. He often thought back to the day they met, the day that, by all rights, never should have happened. If everything had happened as it should, he would have continued on his way out of Jericho, bitter, estranged from his father, and completely oblivious to the fact that a few miles away on a school bus with a group of third graders was the most incredible person he'd ever know. He would have gone on his way and she on hers. Oh, she might have eventually heard of Jake Green, the errant son of Mayor Green whose visit would be spread by the locals, but Jake would never have known Heather Lisinski, the woman whose ideals he wanted to embody. When she looked at him, he dared to believe that he could be more than he actually was.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Jake returned his attention to the matter at hand—their entrapment. "Do you think you could get up there?" he asked pointing to the window.

"If you'll give me a boost," she replied before looking down at her dress. The one day she decided to be girly was the one day she would have benefitted from her familiar, comfortable blue jeans.

"You got it," he said folding his hands to make a step for her.

"And no looking up my dress, Green," she warned pointing a dainty finger at him.

He chuckled, but seeing the look of seriousness on her face, he would have promised her anything. "Scout's honor."

"You never were a boy scout," she muttered.

It was an easy enough promise to make, but as Heather slipped off her shoes and stepped on his hands to be lifted up to the window, it was a not an easy promise to keep. Heather propped her elbows on the deep window sill, taking some of her weight off of Jake's hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around her legs to provide better balance as she worked on opening the window. Her slender legs were smooth and firm, he noted. She, like so many others, was accustomed to walking most everywhere she went. His eyes traveled upward. As it turned out, she needn't have worried about Jake looking up her dress. From this angle, he couldn't see anything but the tantalizing view of her thighs.

"Unbelievable," she told him. "There is no way to open this thing. No latches. No levers. Nothing short of a brick."

"We're not that desperate yet," he replied.

"No," she agreed. "Not yet." She shifted her body slightly and looked down at him. "You can just let go, and I'll drop down."

He shook his head. "I'm not letting go of you. Just let go of the ledge. I've got you."

"Jake," she protested, scowling.

"Just trust me," he insisted.

With a deep breath, Heather let go, bringing dust bunnies down with her, and slid into Jake's arms. He held her a moment longer than necessary, one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulder blades.

"Thanks. I've got it from here," she said wiggling to get down.

"Sorry," he replied lowering her. "Time for Plan B."

He looked back at the door and noted the hinges were inaccessible from their side. He could've kicked himself for pulling the door shut, but when he saw Heather, all he wanted was the opportunity to speak with her, uninterrupted. In a roundabout way, he got his wish.

Plan B, indeed. It was the old tried and true method that always worked in the movies and had worked for Jake from time to time. Moving back about four feet, he charged the door with his shoulder, hoping to force it open. Instead, what he got for his trouble was a sharp pain as reverberations coursed through his body. The oak door, original to the building, didn't budge. He wasn't 18 anymore, an angry rebel working for Jonah, and Jake Green was starting to feel his age. A sharp hiss, followed by a string of curses escaped from his mouth.

"You've forgotten Newton's Third Law," Heather commented wryly. "You hit the door, it hits you back."

Jake furrowed his brows as he rubbed his shoulder. He had a degree in aeronautical science; he knew his laws of physics. Of course, knowing and following were two entirely different beasts. "That's _not_ what Newton's Third Law says."

Heather shrugged as she moved toward him and brushed away his hand, taking over the massaging of his shoulder. "Same concept."

The touch of her small hands made him suck in a breath. Realistically speaking, the way she kneaded his muscles was chaste. It's not as though her touches were accompanied by seductive whispers in his ear. She would've done this for anyone, but Jake found his body responding to her nearness and her touch nevertheless. With difficulty, he managed to form a coherent sentence. "You have any better ideas?" he asked warily.

She stepped back from him. "Thanks," he murmured as he turned to face her and saw the twinkle in her eyes.

"I was thinking we could make a battering ram. If we're lucky, we can storm the castle door before the peasants tar and feather us."

Jake groaned. Leave it to Heather to find the idea of being trapped amusing. "You have a paperclip? A hair pin? Anything? Maybe I can pick this lock." Some of the less reputable skills he'd developed as a younger man certainly did come in handy from time to time.

"Who are you? MacGuyver?"

Jake threw her a lopsided smile. "Well, if you've got some chewing gum to go along with a paper clip, maybe I can make a bomb and blow up the door."

"I must've left my paperclips in the pocket of my other dress." Never mind that her dress was fresh out of pockets. She watched as Jake's eyes shifted to the desk and added, "I'll look in the desk." He nodded appreciatively, and she crossed the small room and eased open the desk drawers. She wrinkled her nose. "The desk is clean. I think Mary must be the only person I've ever known who has a tidy desk." Heather thought back to her own experiences as a teacher. She might start the day with a clean desk, but by the end of the day, she could always count on it to be covered. "Except for a pad of paper, a deck of cards, and a few other odds and ends, nothing useful is here."

Jake took a deep breath. "I guess that means you're stuck with me."

"What made you come here anyway?" she asked for the first time realizing that the storage room at Bailey's wasn't exactly a major thoroughfare. "Are you following me?" she teased.

Truth be told, when he'd seen Heather across the room, he'd thought the world was turning in slow motion. All he could see was her. Her slight figure clad in a dress that hugged her body in all the right places, the faintest hint of a smile upon her face, enough to make her dimples appear, and blue eyes that met his brown ones and held him sway. A barrage of people separated them, many of whom stopped him. Some wanted to shake his hand. Others wanted to share an experience they'd had during the war. But all prevented him from reaching Heather. Sometime in the interim, she'd slipped from the room, and he'd come in search of her.

It was a reunion nearly six months in the making, and he felt like he was fumbling with his words. He wasn't good at this kind of thing. It was one thing to strategize battle plans, lead men and women in combat. It was another thing to find the right words to make her understand exactly what she meant to him.

"I actually _was_ hoping to get the chance to see you again." Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. "When you disappeared from upstairs, I wanted to find you." There. He said it. He wanted to find Heather, to see her, just as he'd been eager to see her for more days than he could track.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn't exactly disappeared. Mary sent her to get more ketchup from the storage room. "You were surrounded by well-wishers, Jake, and you deserved to enjoy that." She extended her hands, palms upward, and glanced around their temporary prison. "So, I'm guessing it won't be too long before they send someone to find you."

"Find us," he corrected. "They'll want to know where you are, too," he added, though Heather looked unconvinced. Jake bridged the distance between them and took one of her hands, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand in a circular motion that made Heather's toes tingle. But it was what Jake said that made her head feel like she was swimming in a vast ocean without a lifejacket and getting pulled by a current. "And what if I don't want them to find us?"

Heather's breath hitched audibly. Her heart pounded in her ears, so much so, she was certain it would leap from her chest. Why did he always do this to her? How was it that Jake Green always managed to chisel away her common sense and leave her feeling like little more than a smitten schoolgirl? No, not again. They'd been down this road before, and it led nowhere. Heather took a deep breath, steadied herself, pulled her hand away from his grasp, and spoke in her best no-nonsense voice. "Don't say things you don't mean."

Jake scowled. "Are you using your teacher voice on me?" From the time he met Heather on that cool late-September day, to the time they spent working together in Cheyenne six months ago, to this very moment, he'd never told her something he didn't mean. He'd avoided her once, yes, but never out and out lied to her. Not even when it would have been easier. "I have said a lot of things to a lot of people that I didn't mean. But _never _to you."

She nodded. "You're right. Let's start over again." She extended her hand and took his, shaking it. "It's good to see you again, Jake."

She was running. Not literally, of course, for there was nowhere to go. But she was running away from him, from them. "Since when do we shake hands with one another?"

"It's the cordial thing to do." Even as Heather uttered those words, the absurdity of them permeated her thoughts, and she felt flushed. Since when had they been just cordial with one another? It had always been hot or cold. Cordial was neither. It was lukewarm.

_Hot_. Heather had felt the sparks between them from almost the instant they met. So many small moments, from Jake walking her home to working together to obtain fuel for the medical center's generators, culminated in a spur of the moment kiss, one that left her shaky and uttering ridiculous warnings about irradiated ants.

_Cold_. The month following the kiss. Jake had avoided Heather, and she let him. Other women might have demanded an explanation, but not Heather. She watched as so many things demanded his time and attention; she wouldn't be another demand, not when she herself had plenty of work to do and her pride had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

_Hot _. The intensity of Jake's gaze as he watched her leave with Russell and Ted to go to New Bern still burned in Heather's memory. They'd shared a lingering goodbye along the side of the road, and he'd drawn her in for a hug, held her tightly, and resisted letting her go.

_Cold_. Being in New Bern, cut off from everyone she cared about in Jericho. Leaving had, Heather believed, ended any future with Jake. For that matter, the longer she was in New Bern and the more she discovered, she was fairly certain it would be the end of her, period.

_Hot_. Seeing Jake again for the first time in months when she returned from Cheyenne following her New Bern experience had been the homecoming of her dreams. To watch his expression go from troubled to gleeful, to hear the teasing in his voice, and to feel his hands brush through her hair and cup her face made her heart skip a beat. All over again, she was an addict, and Jake Green was her drug of choice.

_Cold_. Seeing Jake and Emily were a couple once again made Heather feel like she'd hit a brick wall. Literally. It surprised her, knowing how venomous Emily had been when the subject of Jake came up. And then again, it didn't surprise Heather, considering that Emily still cared enough to feel venomous. What was that old cliché about love and hate? So Heather stepped back, her feelings unspoken, pushed aside.

_Hot_. When Jake showed up at her house, the look of urgency so apparent on his features, Heather knew she'd follow him anywhere. He took her to meet Robert Hawkins, which surprised her. It was to be one of many surprises that day. Jake explained exactly who was responsible for the Day of Change and asked for her help. He needed her. He trusted her.

_Cold_. Realizing she'd have to betray someone she cared about to help Jake dampened any exhilaration she may otherwise have felt at being needed by him. Exhilaration was replaced by the feeling of foolishness and the suspicion that he had used her feelings for him to ensure her help. Knowing this, she was willing to help, but anger and distrust replaced her view of Jake Green.

Time passed. She'd finally been willing to let someone else into her life. She spent time with him, worked with him, and tried to find in him qualities that eluded him and made her long for another.

_Hot_. A warm, summer evening spent playing cards, drinking home brew, and forgetting about the war that was inevitable and on the horizon. A walk along the banks of the Tacoma River, watching the lightning bugs blink in harmony with the kicking up of the wind. Catching and releasing the lightning bugs. Jake capturing her lips with a kiss, tender, thrilling, enveloping, mind numbing, and body tingling that threatened her very sanity and self-control.

_Cold_. Realizing that the kiss was alcohol and post-Emily-breakup induced. She avoided Jake for a month after the kiss, only to have him go away without having the chance to say goodbye. A new war was beginning, and he was needed.

Stealing the cure for the Hudson River virus was essential, and Jake was needed for that.

Convincing others of the duplicity of the Cheyenne government was difficult, and Jake was needed for that, as well.

Defending northwestern Kansas and Jericho against forces loyal to the Allied States became a priority. Jake returned because he was needed.

An opportunity to reach Tomarchio presented itself. Jake was needed, but this time, so was she.

_Hot_. They'd posed as a married couple on a trip to Cheyenne, assuming false identities. They were sharing a mission, sharing a room, sharing a bed. They worked and lived together, depended on one another, and knew that at any moment, the gig could very well be up. There were many things she longed to tell him, but she contented herself with being with him, and put off thinking of the time when their time together would end and Jake was needed elsewhere.

_Cold_. Lying next to Jake, Heather tried to forget that he was there. She'd tried to be very adult about their situation. They were grown, mature people. Surely it wasn't necessary for one of them to sleep in a chair. She shrank from him if their bodies touched, determined to ignore him, determined to ignore her own desires.

_Hot_. Heather decided that whoever believed ignorance was bliss had never known Jake Green. She gave up on pretending that Jake wasn't there. She gave up on pretending that she wasn't in love with him. She gave up her virginity. They gave each other no promises of a rosy future. They knew better than to do that. But they clung to one another, breathed each other's breaths, and experienced perfection.

_Cold_. Their mission was accomplished, and they had to return to reality—Jake being called away. He was out of reach, out of contact, out of time. Six months, gone. No words, only lingering feelings and the phantom sensations of one last, breathless encounter.

The thoughts and memories had quickly flitted through Heather's mind, disjointed and incongruous. But she was fueled by them. She was fueled by _him_.

"Cordial?" Jake repeated numbly still holding Heather's hand. "Is that what we're reduced to? Being cordial? Damn it, Heather, I don't want to be cordial!"

"It's a good thing because you're failing miserably at it," she shot back as she pulled her hand from his grip.

"Why are you acting like this?" It was as though a wall had been erected between the two of them, and the warm, teasing Heather that he'd seen only a few minutes ago had been replaced by this guarded woman.

"Like what? I'm the same, Jake. Good ol' reliable Heather. You can always count on me to fix this or fix that. You can always count on me to go along with whatever craziness comes my way. You can always count on me to smile and say everything's fine because that's what you need to hear. So if I would prefer to be cordial rather than throwing myself at your feet begging you to remember that I exist, then let me be cordial." Her voice was nonchalant, but her words set him on edge.

Jake's brows furrowed. What in the hell was she talking about? Didn't she know that for the last three years, he'd not been able to keep her out of his mind, even during the times when it would have made it much easier for him if he could? Were they back to the start and stop?

_Start_. Jake wasn't even sure when it all began. Was it on the school bus when despite her own pain and fear she managed to keep twenty third graders calm? Was it when she reached out, touched his hand, and said, "We're going to be okay," when the only thing keeping him from flying apart as he watched the incoming storm was his own skin? Was it when she lectured Stanley and him about the proper way to transport gasoline? Was it when she impulsively kissed him, giving him a taste of hope and promise and innocence?

_Stop_. Such innocence. Jake knew without a doubt that Heather deserved a better man than himself. And so he avoided her, though he noticed her. He saw how she checked on the older citizens of the town as the weather grew cooler. He watched her show others ways they could better insulate their homes using materials they already had on hand. All the while her eyes still shone hope and promise and innocence. Jake wouldn't take those away from her the way he had from Emily.

_Start_. He'd resisted Heather when she announced she would join the group going to Black Jack, but she'd made a convincing argument. Who else had her mechanical expertise? He'd been furious when the man propositioned Heather at the trading post, envious when Heather ran into Ted Lewis's arms, and incredulous when she chose to go to New Bern. Didn't she know those qualities she described about herself—that she was safe, that she was a flannel-pajamas, crossword puzzle kind of girl—were part of what drew him to her? She embodied hope and promise and innocence.

_Stop_. Gone. Jake felt cold, not from the cement cell, but from the inside. Heather was dead. Gone were her hope and promise and innocence.

_Start._ Jake didn't consider himself a religious man, but when he saw Heather walk through the door in the sheriff's office, he uttered a silent prayer of thanks. It was impossible that she was still alive—but they'd been living with the impossible for six months. He'd hugged her tightly, felt her sigh against him, and finally believed. They were going to be okay. It wouldn't be easy to rebuild, it wouldn't be easy to let go of the past, but they were going to make it. If Heather could make it back, then they all could.

_Stop_. She didn't smile much anymore, and she carried the weight of the world on her small shoulders. They'd barely spoken after their initial reunion, but she'd jumped back into the thick of things. She began working closely with Major Beck as a liaison to New Bern, apprising the army of the in's and out's out of Jericho's neighboring city and enemy. Heather managed to make contact with other places, areas affected by the lethal Hudson River virus. Heather even humanized the robotic, by-the-book major. Jake watched and wished they could go back to their easy camaraderie, but he was pulled in so many directions. The unsettling new government. Hawkins. The package.

Jake came to Heather, gave her a choice to help or remain ignorant of what was happening around them. Her choice ensured that she would help their cause, but it also ensured that another wall was erected between them. Where there once had been hope was now disappointment. Where there had been promise, resignation.

If Jake had long enough to reflect on it, he would've done anything to make it right with Heather. But he was being pulled, always pulled, in so many directions. Ravenwood. Vaccinations. Bonnie's murder. The attempted besieging of the med center. Goetz's execution at the hands of Stanley. His own confinement. Retrieving the bomb in Cheyenne. Flying to Texas.

_Start_. Time passed. It was summer again. He still remembered the sun dress she wore; it matched her eyes. Her skin seemed luminous, her eyes bright. She was happy to see him, and he dared hope that her disappointment in him had faded. Being near her again was like old times. She was the Heather he remembered—the Heather who could hot wire a car in less than thirty seconds, the Heather who laughed at puns, the Heather who was filled with hope and promise and innocence.

She was also the Heather he didn't remember—a ferocious poker player who took him for all he had. That night he was alternately relieved and regretful that they weren't playing strip poker. Stanley 

had kidded, "You have to watch out for the quiet ones because they sneak up on you," and Jake knew exactly what he meant.

Jake longed to see Heather again. The next night, they went for a walk along the banks of the Tacoma River at dusk and found pleasure in simple things, things that at one time he would've thought childish and dull. Catching lightning bugs and watching the moon rise took on a whole new light when he was with Heather. She made the ordinary seem extraordinary. With Heather, he could forget the storm that was raging outside Jericho, that the Cheyenne government would not sit idly by and allow a blatant insurrection. He could forget Emily Sullivan ever existed. What he couldn't forget was how much he wanted to be enveloped by her hope and promise and innocence.

That evening, not still daylight but not completely dark, when he tucked her hair behind her ear, their eyes locked on one another. And then he was lost. His lips brushed over hers, exploring, and what began sweet soon took on urgency. He ached for her, couldn't get close enough.

So he forced himself to pull away. He wanted to do this right, not to take her for granted. He wanted to treat her right. Hand in hand they walked, hearts beating in rhythm, the future looking bright.

_Stop_. It didn't make sense. Had he imagined the connection between them? Yet Heather was so distant, never alone with him, polite but not particularly friendly. It reminded him of the last time they kissed, only the shoe was on the other foot.

Had he gone too far with her? Did she feel pressured?

He never had the chance to find out. Every time he found an opportunity to approach Heather, something else pulled his attention away, whether it was the New Bern militia representatives appearing to broker an agreement to work against Cheyenne to rogue Ravenwood mercenaries wreaking havoc on remote farms.

Jake left about a month later along with a small band of men to travel north, south, east, and west, spreading the truth of the Cheyenne government, urging towns to band together rather than rely on the Allied States. The group was jokingly called the Second Wave of Four Horsemen by those who remained in Jericho, on alert, waiting for what was to come.

Jake returned, the message spread, alliances made. The East wanted to welcome those who would return to the Union, but it was being ravaged by the Hudson River virus. They'd received word of a convoy of medical supplies, including vaccinations, traveling through southern Nebraska. With the assistance of Beck and his men, the Rangers intercepted the shipment, thereby securing vaccinations for the East to both distribute and study for a cure. Jake and Hawkins traveled to Columbus to deliver the goods.

The Cheyenne government was not so willing to let these small rebellions persist. They sent forces to squelch those who would speak or act against the Allied States. Texas and the East sent forces to aid the rebels. They were at war, officially and irrevocably.

With his military training and combat experience, Jake was put in charge of the north Kansas militia. He was drawn away once again, only making it back to Jericho on rare occasions. When he did, he sought out Heather, but she seemed so wrapped up in her own duties, she barely noticed his presence. It wasn't until they were called upon to carry out a mission that sounded so utterly crazy that it just might work that Heather acknowledged him again.

_Start_. New names thanks to doctored id's of a real couple, now deceased. New mission: expose the corruption of the Cheyenne government using President Tomarchio himself to do it. Posing as a married couple had been awkward at first, for Heather would barely acknowledge him, let alone touch him. Before they left for Cheyenne, Mary was the first to insist they practice being a couple. After all, a real couple wouldn't appear so uncomfortable being held by a spouse.

Fiction eventually melted into fact. They'd melted into each other.

"Are you upset because of what happened in Cheyenne?" Did she think they'd made a mistake? Was that why she was being so…he swallowed hard as he thought of the word she used…cordial?

A polite stranger.

But Heather was no stranger to him.

She lifted her chin. "No. Of course not. I-I'm glad we got it out of our systems."

"You think I have you out of my system?" Huskiness mingled with disbelief.

"Don't you?" Six months without any contact…what was she _supposed_ to think? The only reason she knew he was still alive was that if Jake had been killed, it would've made the rounds on the propaganda vehicles the Cheyenne government called news programs.

She exhaled; the thought that had inadvertently crept into her mind of Jake not making it back to Jericho alive took her breath away. Her eyes stung at the notion, and she was so grateful. After all, so many people hadn't made it back. Even if he didn't think enough of her to correspond in some way, it still mattered to her that he was okay. She could live with that. She could live with hurt pride, but she didn't know that she could live in a world without him. "Look, I don't need any explanations. I am a big girl. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I was willing to accept that there would be no strings attached."

"What happened between us wasn't just sex to me. I thought you knew that," Jake said rubbing his forehead, seeking out her eyes, but her gaze was averted. From the look on her face, he knew the only thing that was keeping her in the same room with him was a locked door. His heart sank. "I thought a lot of things. Or at least I'd hoped…" his voice trailed off. "Hope. It's _your_ fault you know."

"Come again?" Heather did a double-take, her eyes and her voice questioning him.

"You made me dare to hope. You know I'm not real optimistic. Not like you. But being with you—really being with you, I'd hoped that once all the craziness was over, you and I would finally build something worthwhile. Together."

The stinging was back, followed by a lump in her throat. He was saying all the right words, wearing the right expression, and she wanted to believe her eyes, her ears, her heart. But she couldn't. Not when she could also hear the idea that had been ingrained in her from the time she was a child: _Actions speak louder than words_. Jake, being a man of action, should have known that.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words six months ago. Four months ago. Two months ago. Some part of me even wanted to hear them today, but you can't want to be with me only when it's convenient for you."

"You think this is about convenience? Stop looking for reasons to avoid this, to avoid me. Haven't we been doing that long enough?"

"Jake, I've not heard from you since Cheyenne. I…we…" She paused and squared her shoulders. "Let's talk about something else. Did you have a good trip from Columbus? That's where you came from, right?" She glanced toward the door. "I wonder how long it'll be until Mary or Eric come looking for us."

Jake's mind was spinning. She was upset with him. It didn't matter that her voice was dripping with cordiality. It rang untrue. So much of what she was saying did. "Back up. What about my letter?"

"What letter?"

"The letter I wrote to you. I gave it to Roger when we were in Hannibal, Missouri. He was headed here to be with Em, to get back before the baby came. You did get it, right?"

Heather's heart skipped a beat. He _had_ tried to reach her! Happiness flowed through her until Jake's words sank in.

_Roger._ Heather's mask of indifference fell away. "Oh, Jake," she said gently, "Roger didn't make it back alive. He was killed en route near St. Joseph. You didn't know?"

Jake shook his head and turned away from her. "No," he replied somberly. Too many good men and women had died in the last three years, and Roger Hammond had been one of the best. Jake never would have thought the two of them would have anything—other than Emily—in common, but Roger was a major reason the resistance movement had been as successful as it was.+

Then there were those like Phil Constantino who were still alive and kicking. Good karma? Bad karma? Jake didn't believe in it. It was hard to believe in much of anything anymore, but what he did know was that good things happened to good and bad people. Bad things happened to good and bad people. It wasn't something anyone could control. It just _was_. "How could I not have known?"

Heather inched closer to Jake, leaning into his back. She rested her cheek against his shoulder blade as her fingers splayed across his firm abdomen. Jake reached down and intertwined his fingers with hers.

"The flow of information in and out of this area hasn't been exactly stellar," Heather conceded, suddenly feeling petty for thinking the worst of Jake.

"How is Emily?"

Heather hesitated. "She's taking it hard," Heather provided, "but she's keeping it together for R.J.'s sake. She'll be glad to have you back."

It was strange to think of Emily Sullivan as a mother. He hated the thought of her son not having his father in his life. Jake was a grown man who'd had a complicated relationship with his own father, but he would've given anything to just be able to sit down and share a beer and conversation with his father. R.J. would never have that opportunity. "I want Emily to be okay. I do. I just…I didn't come back for her," he said bluntly. Jake turned, still holding her close. "I'm sorry you didn't hear from me for six months. I wish I could give you back those months."

"And I'm sorry I doubted you. I am so sorry, Jake."

"I don't blame you for the thinking the worst. We have a history of a lot of false starts, but in Cheyenne…" He sucked in a breath at the memory of their last night together--when Heather had reached out to him and told him that she was tired of running from him, when her small hands had trailed down his chest to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, when she planted tiny kisses...He tried to push aside the vivid details of that night. He'd certainly dreamed about it enough times, thought about it and her. "You let me be your first and then you didn't hear from me."

"I'm hearing from you now."

"I thought of you every day. All the time, I would find myself wanting to tell you about something that had happened or wanting to get your opinion. I would wonder what you were doing, hoping that you were safe." His long fingers traced her cheeks and rested at the nape of her neck. "Wondering if you were thinking of me, too." His voice was husky, low, as his hands slid across her shoulders, lightly, teasingly, and down the length of her arms before intertwining with her fingers again. "I would dream of holding you again, of smelling your hair." He leaned down, his forehead against hers. Still holding her hands, he maneuvered them behind her back so he could hold her closer. "I dreamed of making love to you again."

And then his mouth was on hers.

Jake had not been prepared for the onslaught of sensations, or how satisfied he would feel when he heard her quick, indrawn breath. He feared he was overwhelming her, taking too much too soon. Hadn't it been just a few moments ago that she was furious, hurt, and 'cordial' with him? But six months—six months was too long to go without holding her, without touching her, without kissing her, without laughing with her. Maybe he was on borrowed time, maybe she was going to try to walk out of his life again as soon as she could walk out of the storage room, but he'd be damned if he wasn't at least going to get a good taste of her first.

_It was worth it._

The taste of her filled him, pumping inside him like a flame, and he wanted more. But she needed to want it, too. Reluctantly, Jake relaxed his grip on her hands before releasing her, his way of letting her know that the next move was hers. If she wanted the kiss to continue, it would. If not, as much as it killed him, it wouldn't.

Heather's first instinct was to pull away, to try to regain her bearings as she had been wont to do in the past, but instead, as their eyes met, she found herself drawing him in. She nibbled slightly at his bottom lip, teasing him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He claimed her small body as his own, pulling her against him. Their legs were tangled, even as they stood, taking possession of each other. With his right hand, he lightly trailed the small of her back, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine.

She made a little sound of both pleasure and surprise as his tongue slid into her mouth. Heather couldn't believe the feelings swelling within her. She was caught in a fury of emotions and sensations, as though being carried away by a current, a powerful, uncontrollable current. Wanting more, needing more, she parted her lips under his.

Jake moaned quietly as he deepened the kiss, feeling her tongue spar with his. He could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the warmth of her thighs against his own, and he thought he would go mad.

The soft, greedy sounds she made had his blood boiling.

He was a starving man, and she tasted so sweet.

He was home.

Still kissing, Heather led him over to the couch. As the two sank onto its worn cushions, she leaned back, pulling him atop her. She trembled as his hands moved to her legs, pushing her dress up her thighs as he settled between them. "Heather," he rasped pulling back and looking down at her. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?"

His question was met with a languid smile as she reached out, grabbed hold of his t-shirt, and pulled him back down into a kiss. Her hands slid underneath his shirt; her nails raked over his back feeling his taut muscles, stopping when they reached his waist. She followed his belt, moving around to the buckle.

Jake hissed when he felt her working his belt. "Heather," he gasped. "Heather, we've got to…" Oh, her hands were driving him insane. "…we've got to stop."

She froze. "Jake, what is it?" Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

He took one of her hands and kissed the delicate flesh of her inner wrist. Exhaling loudly, he explained, "I don't have any protection with me."

Her lashes fluttered. Protection had been the furthest thing from her mind. She realized she hadn't been thinking; she been going on pure emotion and attraction.

"And," he added, "someone could come in any minute. I want to take my time with you, and I _don't_ want to be interrupted."

Her body warred against what he was telling her, but she knew he was right. She groaned as he leaned back into a sitting position on the couch. Her legs were stretched over his lap, and he gently pulled the skirt of her dress down to a more modest position for the benefit of anyone who would happen upon them. "Where is the rescue party then?" she asked sitting up, for the first time anxious to be rescued.

With a grin, he replied, "And to think you were worried about me looking up your skirt."

Shaking her head and smiling, she playfully poked him in the ribs. He pulled her into another kiss, but whereas their first kisses had been frenzied, this was languorous as they savored the sensations and rediscovered one another.

"Mmmm. Newton's Third hard at work," Jake sighed as he ran his fingers back and forth along the crook of her knee.

Heather felt like she was floating in a delicious haze of bliss. "Why do you say that?"

He nuzzled her neck, taking in her scent. "I kissed you. You kissed me back. Isn't that Newton's Third?"

She smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. "And kissing is infinitely better than hitting an oak door—and getting hit back by it." A sigh escaped her lips. "When I saw you upstairs, when you first came in, I thought I was dreaming."

"Dreaming?"

"I thought a lot about you while you were gone, too." She noticed the pained expression on his face. "And not just bad stuff," she amended. "I understand now why I didn't hear from you. But even before I knew—oh, Jake, I thought about the good far more than the hurt. My mind kept going back to our time in Cheyenne. I had been so resistant to going at first, but now I can't imagine not having been there with you. I thought about our last night there, and how it felt to be with you in every way. But I thought of other things, too. Cooking dinner with you in the kitchenette, laughing so hard my sides hurt, making s'mores from the ingredients you pilfered from the President's mansion, the walks we took around the city and how you gave people hope."

"If I gave them hope, it was only because you gave _me_ hope."

She touched his face. "Oh, Jake, you are a much better man than you give yourself credit."

He took her hand and kissed her fingers before meeting her eyes with an intensity that made her want to melt. "So what are you doing for the rest of your life?"

Heather's heart skipped a beat. "Assuming that someone finds us and lets us out of here?"

He shrugged as he once again looked around the room. "We've got the basic food groups in here. Beer, wine, and ketchup. We have everything we could possibly need."

"Well," she laughed brushing her lips against his, "not _everything_. And to top it off, now I've tempted fate." She traced tiny kisses across his jawline.

"We've faced down the dangers of corrupt governments, battled assassins and Ravenwood, and made it to the other side. Surely we can face this obstacle. So assuming that we make it out of here, what are you doing for the rest of your life?"

There was that question again. She took a deep breath and pulled back from him slightly. "The rest of my life? I'm not sure yet. I used to be such a planner to the point of being OCD. Now? I've learned to take life as it comes. I want to help this town rebuild and return to normal. Maybe that'll entail returning to teaching." Jake was still holding her hands, and she had to force herself to concentrate as he ran his thumbs over her knuckles. It was amazing to her how such a simple motion could have such a potent effect on her. "What about you? You're a national hero! The possibilities must be endless for you."

Jake groaned.

"No seriously. Biographers are going to be crawling all over this place, interviewing people who knew you way back when."

"If that happens, you have to promise me to keep them away from Stanley and Principal Gerhardt."

"I'm not promising a thing," she laughed as she tucked her legs underneath her. "I can picture it now. _Jake Green: A Man for All Ages_ or _Jake Green: The Man Who Saved a Nation_."

"How about _Jake Green: If You Screw up Enough Times You'll Eventually Get it Right_?" he quipped.

She smiled feebly, weighing the nervousness for what she was about to ask with her need to know his answer. "So what are you going to do now that this is all behind us? You never did plan to stay in Jericho, after all. Normalcy is going to have a tough act to follow."

"I spent the better part of my adult life running away from this place, but now I can't imagine wanting to be anywhere else but here. With Gray in Congress…"

"Scary thought," Heather interjected.

"You'd be proud of him, though," Jake commented, hardly believing it possible. "He's not the same reactionary he once was. He's still a jackass a good part of the time…" That made them both smile. "…but at least he's a jackass we can trust. When he went to Cheyenne for the Constitutional Convention, he finally woke up and started to see the big picture."

"True enough," Heather conceded. She would never have warm, fuzzy feelings for Gray Anderson; neither would Jake for that matter, but through experience, he had grown into a worthwhile rather than a worthless leader.

"So with Gray in Congress and Eric now serving as mayor, I'm hoping that nepotism is alive and well. Maybe Eric can use me for…something. Regardless, I plan on getting my grandfather's ranch back in operation breeding horses. Maybe I'll get Gramps's old AT-500 running and do some crop dusting on the side."

Heather stood on her knees as best as she could on the worn sofa. "But you're definitely staying here?" Her heart felt like it was about to take off in flight.

Jake reached out to her, encircling her waist and pulling her onto his lap. His hands rested on her hips, and he met her gaze. "Everything I've ever wanted is right here. _You're_ right here." He spoke with a fierce determination, but then his expression and tone softened. "When I think of the present, when I think of the future, I can't imagine you not being part of that. I love you, Heather."

Heather found herself momentarily stunned. Those were the four words she'd longed to hear from him, even going back to that day they met on the bus—two strangers who forged a bond on that Day of Change. It seemed a lifetime ago, and perhaps it was, but now they had the chance at a new life together.

_Together. _Such a simple word. Such a beautiful word.

She'd always thought the expression 'bursting with love' to be an exaggeration, but as Jake's words sank in, she thought her heart might literally burst from the delight, the contentment, the anticipation, and the promise his words inspired. "I love you, Jake. So much."

In that moment, he felt enveloped by her hope, her promise.

Jake kissed her gently, slowly, before pulling away from the kiss amid her silent protest. With a husky voice, he asked, "Now will you finally tell me what you're planning to do with the rest of your life?"

With a twinkle in her eyes and laughter in her heart, Heather answered his question.

**T h e E n d**

* * *

+ As part of his effort to spread the word of what the Cheyenne government had done (the bombs) and was likely to do (war with the East), Jake traveled to Syracuse, Kansas. Syracuse is a town about the size of Jericho, with a population slightly under 2000. It is located in Hamilton County, in western Kansas, though further south than Jericho. When Roger was exiled from Jericho, he made his way there, eventually earned the trust of the townspeople there, and putting his leadership skills to work, helped them to survive in a world where no outside help was readily available. Months later, when Jake came to Syracuse, Roger vouched for Jake, which helped Jake to gain the trust of the people there who were wont to believe the message that Jake brought for them.

* * *


End file.
